


You Told Yourself No (How About This Time You Try Saying Yes?)

by Violette_Pleasures



Series: Mixed Drabbles [3]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Bottom Carl Grimes, Carl Grimes is a Little Shit, Crushes, Daddy Kink, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Marijuana, Older Man/Younger Man, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Teasing, Top Negan (Walking Dead), family friend! Negan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: Rick and Michonne are finally able to go on their honeymoon and have left Negan in charge of checking up on Carl while they're away. Negan doesn't mind lending his best friends a hand even if Carl is more than a little of a brat but that's sort of what Negan likes about him(oof sorry for the bad title lol couldn't think of anything XD)





	You Told Yourself No (How About This Time You Try Saying Yes?)

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from tumblr :3c 
> 
> yo whaddup cegan fam?

“Carl! For fuck's sake I know you're home! Open the door you fuckin' gremlin!” Negan pounded on the door with the side of his fist, the dull thud thud thud echoing in the empty house.

 

Rick and Michonne had decided to take off for the honeymoon they never had the chance to have after they were married and had asked him to check up on Carl a few times over the weekend. Carl was seventeen and had been left to his own devices while Judith stayed with a family friend. The kid was more than capable, but they said they would both feel better just knowing he was alright.

 

“Carl!”

 

“Oh my god, what?!” A very sleepy looking, grumpy Carl flung the door wide open, squinting against the late morning sun. “The fuck is your problem?”

 

“The fuck is yours?! What the hell took you so long to open the goddamn door?”

 

“I was sleeping, you dick.” Carl stepped aside, inviting Negan in. “It's this crazy thing people do at night.”

 

“Well, in case you haven't noticed, pumpkin,” Negan cooed falsely saccharine, which never failed to fluster or embarrass Carl, as he walked into the kitchen. “It's almost noon, so most normal people are already up and at it.”

 

“Whatever...” Carl blushed and squeezed passed him to grab some orange juice out of the fridge.

 

It was then that Negan took stock of what Carl was wearing, a baggy sweatshirt that looked oddly familiar, knee high socks, and no pants whatsoever, just a pair of tiny, honeybee yellow briefs, and had to look away quickly before he was caught staring.

 

“Why don't you go put some pants on, you weirdo.” Negan crossed his arms, trying to sound authoritative but Carl just silently mocked him with a sassy look and mouthed his words right back at him while he dug in the fridge. “Do you want a fucking spanking?”

 

“Ooh, spank me, Negan, I like it~” Carl bat his lashes all pretty up at Negan as he pulled a yogurt out of the bottom drawer.

 

“Stop it, kid.” Trying to ignore that little comment was more than a bit hard and he had to avidly and firmly remind himself that Carl was still a kid, his best friend's kid...who seemed to really like flirting with him lately.

 

It wasn't one of those things that had happened suddenly, but rather took it's time forming over months. First it was all silly stuff, Carl pretending to compliment or hit on Negan only to shoot him down in the same breath, but then he started touching and pressing up against Negan every chance he got and it became quite clear that Carl was genuinely interested. And that was a fucking problem.

 

Carl Grimes was jailbait with 'trouble' written all over him in bright red letters and worse yet, he fucking knew it too. He knew he had Negan wrapped around his little finger, knew he was slowly wearing him down and that annoyed Negan to no end.

 

“Why does it smell like a frat party in here?” Negan sniffed, trying to quickly change subjects.

 

“Oh, probably because I was drinking beer and doing bong rips last night?” Carl stated blithely.

 

Negan rubbed at his temples tiredly; he was getting too old for this. Coincidentally, Carl was getting just old enough for it. “You're a nightmare, you know that right?”

 

“More like your dream come true, I think.” Carl laughed already heading downstairs to the basement where his bedroom was. Negan rolled his eyes and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, following after him without even having to be invited; the invitation was always implied with Carl and that Negan's was always standing was also heavily implied.

 

Negan plopped down on the seventies floral print sofa in the main room of the basement. Carl had managed to turn the place into quite the teenage hang out, a large tv and video games and consoles sat on the wall in front of the couch, a mini fridge with soda and energy drinks acted as a side table. Carl's room was curtained off, lacking an actual door simply because there wasn't one already there when they'd bought the place.

 

Carl walked back into the main room with a grinder in one hand and a jar of weed tucked under his arm, slurping his yogurt loudly. He licked the inside of the cup clean, getting creamy yogurt all over his lips and even the tip of his nose. He licked his lips and wiped his face on his hoodie sleeve as he sat everything down on the rickety coffee table.

 

“God, kid, I don't think I've smoked since my college days.” Negan laughed, reminiscing about those wild, long ago days too many years in the rearview mirror. He wasn't about to tell Carl not to get high either; he was close enough to an adult as far as he was concerned and if this is what he wanted to do, so be it. He also knew even if he said something, Carl would just wait for him to leave and do it anyways.

 

“Really?” Carl sat beside him rolling another joint, one leg bent, foot perched on the edge of the worn out, musty sofa, the other resting on the floor. His nimble fingers made quick work of rolling the small blunt which he now drug between his pillowed lips, kitten pink tongue sealing it shut. “I mean, I knew you were boring, but I didn't think you were _that_ boring. You drive motorcycles and shit and wear leather jackets. I call that false advertising.”

 

“Listen here, you little shit, you have no idea what I get up to when you're not around.” He kicked his feet up onto the low coffee table, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, the condensation already making it mushy and fall apart.

 

“Ooh, like what?” Carl's eyes lit up with that mischievous curiosity that Negan knew would get one or both of them in trouble if he weren't careful.

 

“Like none of your damn business.” Negan arched a brow at him teasingly and took another swig of his beer.

 

“Laaaame.” Carl sulked, placing the joint between his lips.

 

He couldn't help but notice, with Carl sitting like this, how nice the kid's legs were, all soft and willow limbed from a growth spurt over the summer, tucked up underneath him nice and neat and baby deer sweet. One of his socks had slid down to puddle around his ankle while the other stretched upwards to just below his knee. Following the line of his leg, it was then that Negan realized why that hoodie looked so familiar—it was one of his, a Harley Davidson one he'd been looking for recently but had given up hope on. Ashamedly, he liked the look of his clothes on Carl's lithe figure.

 

“You wanna hit this?”

 

Negan nearly spit out his drink, hurriedly sitting up as he coughed to clear his throat. “What?”

 

“The joint? Do you want some, grandpa?” Carl smirked, mumbling around the joint stuck between his lips.

 

“I have half a mind to take you over my knee for that one.” Negan shook a finger at him in mock reproach, heart rate falling somewhere back down into the realm of normal. “Nah, knock yourself out, I think I'm good with beer for now.”

 

“Suit yourself.” Carl shrugged sparking up and taking a long inhale, pausing to let the smoke permeate his lungs and exhaling slow. “Its good stuff though~ Girl Scout Cookie and Berry Kush~” He waved the brown wrapper in front of Negan's face teasingly. “Tastes like Jammie Dodgers~”

 

“Alright fine, you twisted my arm, hand it over.” Negan leaned over and took the blunt, rolling his eyes at the smug little grin Carl gave him for having won. He took a good hit, only coughing a little as he exhaled. “Fuck, that is good.”

 

“Right? Friend of mine grows it out in the woods, none of that hydroponic stuff.” Carl took another hit and reclined back into the sofa, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. As he went to pass it back, he stopped and yanked the joint out of Negan's grasp. “Hold on...wanna try something. Do you trust me?”

 

“No,” Negan scoffed “but do whatever it is you're itchin' to do 'cause I know I won't be able to stop you.”

 

“Mm, probably not.” Carl shook his head impishly. The teen moved around to all fours and crawled over to Negan, locking eyes with him for the briefest of moments before he settled himself in Negan's lap, fawn legs spread wide over Negan's thighs, pelvises almost flush.

 

“Carl, what're you—“

 

“Shh.” Carl snipped between hits. “Trust me, remember?”

 

Negan felt his heart rate steadily climbing back up. He felt like a fucking teenager himself, hands hovering uselessly over miles of silky skin, not knowing where to put them. Finally, he decided fuck it and tentatively placed them on Carl's slightly rounded hips.

 

Carl filled his lungs to max capacity, rib cage expanding and accentuating the sloping curve of his low back, and, placing a small hand to Negan's chest, leaned in and brushed their lips together.

 

“Carl—” Negan froze, that tiny touch of their lips had him breathing harder, leaning away from Carl. This situation was already bad, looked bad, knew it was bad to have a teenaged boy crawling all over him, half dressed and high to top it all off. But no matter how hard he tried to resist, tell himself no, he was getting hard in his jeans faster than anything had ever gotten him there before.

 

Carl froze on the spot for just a moment, biting his plump bottom lip and gazing into Negan's eyes with something he could only call desire, but not moving away like Negan was trying to get him to do. Haltingly, he moved in closer, lip sliding from between his teeth, maintaining eye contact, only letting them flutter closed right before their lips touched.

 

Negan kept his eyes open the whole time and parted his lips when Carl's pink little tongue darted out to lick at the seam. As he opened his mouth, Carl exhaled and that's when he realized what he was trying to do. Instantly Negan felt bad for assuming anything otherwise and accepted the hit Carl wanted to share with him.

 

That is, until right before Carl pulled back, he licked slow and teasingly into Negan's mouth. Negan kept his mouth open, letting Carl explore, half in shock half in wanting. Carl traced the insides of his lips with the tip of his tongue, coquettishly sucking on the bottom one before giving it a little nip.

 

“Kiss me back, asshole.” Carl breathed a laugh onto Negan's tongue, applying little pecks to the corners of his mouth and cheek and beard covered chin.

 

“We shouldn't.” Negan finally let himself close his eyes and enjoy the sensation of having Carl all over him, of having his syrupy sweet mouth on his skin.

 

“Who's gonna stop us?” Carl pouted up at him fluttering his lashes. “Don't you like me, Negan?”

 

“Put it away,” He huffed a laugh and covered Carl's face with his hand making the teen giggle and bite at his palm. “You know I like you...”

 

“And I like you, so...”

 

“So?”

 

“Kiss me. Like you mean it.”

 

Negan tried to tell himself no as his hand slid around the back of Carl's neck beneath his hair, tried to remind himself of their age difference as he pulled him in, but Carl's whole body was begging, screaming yes and Negan, well, he wasn't weak, but he was for Carl. Their lips met, leisurely gliding against one another, letting the intensity of it slowly build. He isn't sure who's lips parted first, but he knows their tongues are sliding together hot and wet and that the taste of Carl's mouth is addicting.

 

All too quickly, Negan flipped their positions, laying Carl out on the old couch beneath him and pressing down into him. Carl moaned prettily as Negan's weight came to rest on him and Negan growled in response. Carl shuddered and wrapped his arms about Negan's neck, pulling him closer. Negan's mouth traveled lower, pressing wet kisses to Carl's neck, mouthing at the tendon on the side and sucking pale raspberry colored marks there.

 

“Mm, Negan...want this, want you...” Carl's voice sounded wrecked and they hadn't even really done anything yet.

 

“Yeah?” Negan husked against the hollow of his throat. “What do you want me to do to you, baby?” The weed was admittedly making all of this much easier, making his ideas flower into words that he would normally swallow down before they even budded, but they weren't anything new, not anything he didn't already know about himself and he wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

 

Carl gasped at the pet name and arched his body into Negan, making the older man groan when their obvious hard-ons rubbed together. “I want you to fuck me.” Carl's breath is ticklish and hot as he finds Negan's ear, whispering against it like a child telling a secret. “I've been dreaming about it for so long...I want you to be my first, _Daddy_.”

 

“Fuck, _Carl_...” Negan pulled back just enough to look into Carl's face, to see if he had any idea what he'd just said. But the boy was biting his lip and grinning up at him, so yeah, he knew. He slipped a hand between them to cup Carl through his briefs and gave him a gentle squeeze. “You been thinking about this, baby boy? Hm? You want Daddy to touch you like this?”

 

Carl whimpered, absolutely, without a doubt, _whimpered_ at the touch. Words seemed to prove too difficult, like Negan's touch shortcircuited his thoughts, and he nodded vigorously. Eventually, he managed out a quiet plea. “M-more...please, more...”

 

Negan hummed, gazing down at his pretty little wreck for a moment more before he slid down Carl's body, propping his legs up and open on his shoulders. He eased Carl's briefs down, leaving them dangling from his left ankle. He looked up through his brows, mouth poised over Carl's wet cock, to find the boy watching him with bated breath. All Negan offered him was a smirk before his mouth descended down his length, swallowing him entirely.

 

“Oh my god—Negan!” Carl's back bowed, fingers digging into Negan's hair and holding him there. He rolled his hips minutely, rocking up into Negan's mouth as much as he would allow. In less that five minutes, he was tugging at Negan's hair. “Gonna come, Daddy...gotta—mm! Pull off...”

 

But Negan didn't listen, of course he didn't, he wasn't going anywhere. He wanted to taste everything Carl had to offer. He hooked his hands into the joint between thigh and hip and yanked Carl closer, pushing him as far down his throat as he could while Carl turned into a writhing, moaning mess above him. Soon the creamy salty-sweet of Carl's release was coating his tongue and he more than eagerly swallowed it all down, suckling at the teen until he fell limply from between his lips.

 

Carl gazed at him more dazed and sleepy looking than ever, reaching out for him with adorable grabby fingers. Negan chuckled and pushed up to kiss his boy, slow and loving, adoring the feeling of his fluttering pulse just beneath his palm where it rested comfortingly on the side of Carl's neck. Knowing he caused that, that he made Carl's heart gallop like a race horse, was utterly and completely satisfying.

 

“You okay, baby?” Negan ran the back of his knuckles down Carl's cheek.

 

“Mm-hm,” Carl nodded sleepily, blushing vibrantly. “But...I want more. I wanna feel you...”

 

“Well, we might need to move to a bed then, 'cause I think this couch is a little small for the both of us.”

 

“C'mon then...” Carl pouted up at him, pushing lightly at his shoulders.

 

“Eager...” Negan teased, giving Carl one last peck before sitting up.

 

“Slow poke.” Carl mimicked his tone like the brat he was, grabbing Negan's hand and pulling him towards his bedroom.

 


End file.
